


See This Through

by nagi_schwarz



Series: Paint The Sky With Stars [41]
Category: Night World - Fandom, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Crossover, Fusion, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 11:13:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7572028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay, Biting."</p><p>Part of Rodney's plan involves not letting John feed on random people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	See This Through

The first time Rodney offered to let John drink from him, he was terrified. But he knew John had to feed every couple of days if he didn’t want to go into blood starvation, and he knew John awakening his vampiric self was part of whatever crazy plan he had, and Rodney needed to forestall that plan, but he didn’t need John to know that. Rodney needed to be in control of every aspect of his own plan as well as John’s, and John couldn’t be feeding on random people on Atlantis, even if he could send them on their way with nary a trace of the feeding (no wound, no scar, no memory).   
  
So when he and John were crowded in Rodney’s quarters (bigger than John’s now that John was a lowly grunt but Rodney was still CSO), kissing leisurely on Rodney’s bed, he did it. Took the plunge. He and John were very carefully staying out of each other’s minds, maintaining their mental walls. So when Rodney pulled back from the kissing and tilted his head just so, John was confused.  
  
“Rodney?”  
  
“You can feed from me, if you want.” Rodney’s heart was hammering in his chest. Surely John could hear that, even if he was deaf to Rodney’s thoughts.  
  
Silver hunger flared in John’s eyes, and his lips parted, and Rodney saw John’s fangs extend, press into his bottom lip just barely. And then John shook his head, and his eyes were normal again, his teeth normal again.  
  
“Rodney, no.”  
  
“You can’t keep feeding on random people,” Rodney said. “Someone’s going to notice. It’s safer if it’s me.”  
  
“No,” John said softly. “No, it’s not.”  
  
“I know you won’t hurt me,” Rodney said.  
  
John smoothed his thumb over an invisible mark on Rodney’s wrist, where the last of his bruises had faded as John finally got control of his superhuman strength. “What you’re offering -”  
  
“Only makes sense,” Rodney insisted.   
  
“You have no idea what you’re asking.” John shook his head, sat back.  
  
“Sure I do. You’ve fed on me before.”  
  
John peered at Rodney from beneath his lashes, and Rodney saw silver flash in John’s gold-green-blue-hazel eyes once more. “It’s not the same thing at all. That time I attacked you. Didn’t have permission. We hadn’t connected then.”  
  
“John, please. I want to help.” Rodney reached out, stroked John’s hair.  
  
John turned into the caress, nosed at the inside of Rodney’s wrist. Shuddered. “I couldn’t. I -”  
  
“Just a little. Try it out. And if it’s - too much, then we’ll come up with a different plan,” Rodney said. He had a back-up plan, of course. But it wasn’t a very good one.  
  
“The wrist,” John said, “is less intimate than the throat. It’d probably be safer if I -”  
  
Rodney traced the line of John’s jaw, exposing the inside of his wrist, with its pale blue veins, to John’s lips.  
  
“There’s a reason,” John said, “a smart vampire doesn’t feed on the same people over and over again. Feeding on a mortal creates a blood bond. Forced affection. Not just the physical intimacy. I couldn’t -”  
  
“We already have a bond,” Rodney said. “You cannot force me to like you. I love you. And it’s not like we’re strangers to intimacy.” But they were, these days. Their minds were closed to each other. Wait. If John fed off Rodney, would he be able to read Rodney’s mind? Because -  
  
“We’re still rebuilding.” John pressed his lips to Rodney’s skin in a whisper-light kiss, trembling beneath Rodney’s hands. “I don’t want to risk that, to rush it, to -”  
  
“John. Take me.”  
  
John closed his eyes with a shaky exhalation, almost a sob, and pressed his lips to Rodney’s skin again. And again. And again. The sensation was feather-light, John’s lips warm and soft, and Rodney braced for it, the pain, the sting, the burn he’d felt before.  
  
All he felt was warm, and safe, and loved, and there was a faint sting, and then John’s hands were curled around his arm, cradling his wrist close, and John was nuzzling his skin, licking and licking, and -   
  
_Oh._

Rodney felt it, the moment they connected. Their walls were still intact, but they were in a shared space. A space Rodney had been to before, he thought. In a dreams. In dreams where John had come to him, and they’d danced, and they’d talked, and they’d drawn formulas and graphs and curves and lines and sequences across endless back skies using numberless diamond-bright stars. But those dreams were in another lifetime, no, another _timeline_.  
  
In John’s mind, Rodney was - brilliant, as bright as a sun. Beautiful, like strikes of lightning, or unexpected riffs in a jazz piece. John himself was - a featureless silhouette, with two shadows, one wavering, one made of smoke. His two halves: lamia and witch.  
  
Rodney had passed out from blood loss before, and he kept waiting for it, the pain, the dizziness, but all he felt was alive. Warm. Loved.  
  
John felt - hungry. Afraid. Desperate.  
  
 _No,_ John said, one of his shadows practically vibrating with tension. _Don’t look. Please. I -_  
  
 _I love you,_ Rodney whispered, _and you’re beautiful._  
  
John wrenched himself backward with a gasp, and the connection shattered. He flicked his tongue over the puncture wounds in Rodney’s wrist, and when he sat back on his haunches, scrubbing his mouth with the back of his hand, Rodney watched the wounds close.  
  
“I’m sorry,” John said, voice husky. “That was a bad idea.”  
  
“No.” Rodney smoothed a hand over John’s hair. “It felt wonderful. I like being able to help you.”  
  
“Always from the wrist.” John sucked in another shaky breath. “If I’d drunk from your throat, we might have -”  
  
“What?” Rodney asked.  
  
“What’s wired together fires together.” John sounded like he was almost sobbing. “Heightmeyer used to say that all the time. Rodney, you have to go. I don’t want to twist what we have.”  
  
“Twist?” Rodney echoed, and John gazed up at him, pleading. And wanting. Rodney realized. John was turned on by feeding on Rodney. Rodney knelt down so he was eye-level with John, leaned in.  
  
“I don’t think you heard me before,” he breathed, brushing his lips against John’s. “I said _take me._ ”  
  
John shook his head. “No. I can’t.” But his chest was heaving. He gazed at Rodney, eyes blazing silver once more. Then he licked his lips and, very deliberately, reached down, unfastened his belt. “But you can take me.”  
  
Rodney didn’t think he could say no to that, so he batted John’s hands aside, finished the job, and leaned in, kissed John thoroughly.  
  
Later, after John had fallen asleep, Rodney lay beside him, stroking a hand over the smooth expanse of his back, and wondered if he could really see this through.


End file.
